Sour Notes

***

The week days before the concert went pretty much as usual.

Me and Mrs. Lemon were doing most of the things together: reading, cooking, taking strolls through the forest… This time she even took me to see the Old Loom. - The actual village of course, not what she used as an excuse to disappear with Mr. Scribble. And Mrs Lemon was right, there wasn’t a lot to see there, but the path there was really pretty.

Between composing the rest of her symphony for the concert, mistress didn’t forget about my piano lessons either so we spent quite a lot of time behind the instrument. I didn’t mind that at all though, on the contrary, it was great.

I was also there for most of the time while she was writing. Mrs. Lemon didn’t necessarily order me to stay but she said that for some reason she has better ideas with me around. While I wasn’t sure if a thing like that was possible, as long as it made her happy, I was glad to stay.

By Friday, the musical piece was already finished.

Then came Saturday, and that Saturday was a big day for us. - Mostly for my mistress, but for me too because I felt somewhat connected to her. After lunch, I brought the old keyboard from an attic, checked twice if it works, packed all Mrs. Lemons’s musical notes, helped her put on the big wheels and we were on our way.

It was pretty early that we arrived at the concert. After all, Mrs. Lemon did promise to have a listen to the band playing before her.

From their name “The Harmonics” one would expect something classical but it was actually quite a rock show. We both liked them. And then it was time to shine for my mistress:

Ponies were just a bit surprised about what a human was doing on stage with a pony but as soon as I connected the keyboard to speakers and set everything up, I left for the backstage, sneakily watching.

Most of the other performers had some kind of talk before they started playing but my mistress merely smiled at the audience, announcing with her soft voice:

”I named this one: A trail through the snow…”

Then she smiled my way over her shoulder and pressed the first key to start her symphony… The keyboard, even though it wasn’t a real thing, sounded in her hooves pretty much the same amazing as her grand piano and within the first minute, the whole crowd went silent. The melody started out slow, cheerful and happy but it progressively transitioned into a flamboyant display of skill that was beautiful in its refined complexity, yet, as if with its growing epicness, it grew colder and colder each minute.

In its grandest moment, completely different from the way it started, the music out of nowhere stopped with an intentional disharmonic sound that made the audience almost yank with its suddenness. I saw Mrs. Lemon open her eyes to glance at the ponies in a second of stillness before she continued playing.

The interlude was slow and sad, as if barely staying alive but from there it quickly rose to an aggressive tone, full of wild anger and fury, until it started calming down, progressing into the new, second act:

The second act was completely different, yet it quickly reminded me of the very start of the symphony with its hopefulness that previously disappeared over time. Except now it only kept growing, as if the music shone with bright colours and soon it even outshined the first act with its magnificence. -Not through the means of weight and importance but rather through something beautiful that could have easily been heard and felt but not described with words.

The first act was like a statue of glass, refined and beautiful, but cold at the same time. While the new music felt warm and carefree, like a tree, sprouting its way through the concrete to emerge further than a building, slowly blooming on its way towards glory. It kept going, gaining on complexity while staying true to its roots and yet coming up with something new each minute. Everypony was listening in awe, curious about what the third act would bring...

Yet, the third act never came.

The symphony ended not abruptly, but rather openly, as if the story kept going on but it wasn’t written yet.

Not even I have heard the whole thing being played in one piece before, but I knew it was a definitive end now because Mrs. Lemon opened her eyes again and smiled at me over her shoulder. The audience stayed silent for a while, expecting more to come but when my mistress turned the keyboard off and gently pushed the table with her instrument away, they actually realized it’s over.

Then the applause came, and as silent they were throughout her performance, the louder was their ovation. The ponies were clopping their hooves on the cobblestone underneath and it sounded like thunder, while the artist humbly sat there, blushing and smiling.

When the fans went quiet enough for her to speak, she announced:

”Thank you everypony, it was a great pleasure to perform for you. But I’d also like to thank my human, Anon. Without him, I wouldn’t be here for more than one reason.”

With that, she bowed and looked my way, indicating to me to help her pack up. Naturally, I rushed to go help her into her wheels, tightening the belts for her so she could walk away on her own while I unplugged the keyboard and picked up all the things.

Then she bowed one more time, standing next to me while receiving another round of applause. After that, we left so the next performance could take place.

The whole thing, including the packing and unpacking took 36 minutes.

***

“You were absolutely amazing, mistress! They loved you!” I almost hugged her when we were out of sight.

”It seems they did…” She smiled back to herself, still a bit red in her face. “...but they didn’t know your part in it, I wish they could.”

“Please mistress, it was all you.” I glanced at her in as much disapproving manner as I dared to, given my servile position. ”I merely nudged you to give it a shot...”

”That isn’t true at all Anon, do you know what did the two acts mean?” Her eyes met mine with confidence greater than I had.

“I,.. am not sure.” I had to admit under her gaze. “All I could tell they were,.. they were different in almost everything, yet familiar… Although the second one felt more sincere.”

”Did you like the second one more?” Her eyebrows raised higher up.

“I can’t tell,..” I scratched my head. It felt like a trick question but I answered in truth nonetheless. “They were both equally beautiful but the second one was somehow warmer and closer to my heart.”

”That’s because you were in it.” Mrs. Lemon gave me one of her typical mysterious smiles. “...First act was about my previous life in Canterlot. I have to admit that I used to be a very proud mare.” She made a short pause, as if recalling the period, judging her own past. “The interlude represented the accident and the depression which I struggled with. However, the second act started when you entered into my reality and began helping me rebuild myself into somepony else. Possibly somepony more humble and overall more pleasant to be around I dare say. That’s why I said I couldn’t be here without you.”

“...D-do you actually mean that mistress?” I stuttered. It was because I felt the same way about her, improving my own life in a similar manner. I just refused to believe it might be both-sided. “It can’t possibly be-”

”It is.” Her hoof fondly touched my leg as I laid down the keyboard. “You don’t have to say anything Anon, I just wanted you to know it.”

“Thank you mistress.” I felt my eyes water with emotion. ”It literally means everything to me.”

The mare softly laughed over my reaction, her voice as golden as her mane. Then she recalled something:

”...I just wish Papyrus was here with us, I wonder if he’d even like the whole thing. Maybe it could help him cross the bridge between the two of you.”

“... You could play it to him when he comes back home next week.” I tried, although I knew it would not be the same as if he could also see the crowd that she performed for. “...But please don’t tell him what you told me today.”

”If you’d prefer it that way, I won’t.” She smiled once more “...What do you say we’d stay here to hear the rest of the musicians today?”

“I’d say gladly. If it is your wish.” I slightly bowed my head.

”I’m asking you as a friend right now, Anon.” She chuckled. “Not as your mistress.”

“In that case, my answer remains the same.” I smiled back.

***

We stayed there two more hours, till late afternoon. Then Mrs. Lemon collected the bits which ponies donated to her at the end of her show and we went for a little stroll through the town.

”...I was thinking Anon, it’s almost time for dinner, would you like to visit a restaurant with me today?” The mare asked me out of nowhere at some point.

“You’re too kind, but-”

”No buts. Actually, this time it’s an order.” She laughed “Come with me, there’s one restaurant I discovered with Papyrus a long time ago and we both agreed it’s the best place to take somepony if you want them to discover something even better than their home cooking. We’ve got plenty of bits, so let's go!”

I left the keyboard and all the other stuff we brought with the concert organizers who said they’ll be leaving tomorrow, so we can pick it up anytime while Mrs. Lemon led me nearly to the other side of the whole city.

Along the way, we chatted about everything we saw and heard at the concert and my mistress also told me everything she knew about the city parts we walked through:

Supposedly, it started out the same as Old Loom and other small villages nearby but thanks to its centered position it grew from a tiny pony settlement nearby oak woods, into the city that stands there today. Some of the trees had to be cut down but most of them, especially the old ones, still stand and are preserved in many parks around the city.

...Can’t say that we used to have a lot of green cities like this back on Earth.

Of course, my mistress wasn’t there to see it all happen either, the city was hundreds of years old while she built her house nearby Old Loom merely 10 years ago. She knew a lot about it from books though.

...

Through the thin corridors, wide squares and pretty parks, we eventually found ourselves in front of a restaurant called “Wooden Spoon”. By that time it was already dark but that was when the city started to shine with its own light… so it was still really pretty.

”I haven’t been here in quite a while, it’s good to see that everything is mostly the same.” Mrs. Lemon led me to one of the tables on the other side of the room, with a view on the picturesque interior as well as a nearby square behind the large windows.

When the waiter pony arrived, he glanced at me with a visible standoff, then spoke to my mistress:

”Good evening Miss, and I’m sorry to start this way, but would you mind tying that human outside?”

”Good evening, actually, I would mind. There isn’t a sign outside that prohibits their kind to enter. You don’t have to worry not about him though, he’s well mannered.”

”You have to excuse me, I merely worry about the comfort of our other customers. ...If it’s absolutely necessary, could you at least put his collar on and leash him to your table?”

”Well,-” Mrs. Lemon raised her hoof in defense of my dignity but I interrupted her:

“That’s okay mistress.” and I pulled the collar out of my bag, clipping it onto my own neck. “We don’t have a leash though, it’s electric.”

The waiter pony stood there for a while, looking rather surprised to see me do it myself, until he lowered one of his eyebrows:

”Guess that will have to do…”

I learned a long time ago that it’s often easier to take a step back in order to avoid returning the whole way.

...Sadly, we were still given only one menu because they didn’t expect me to be able to read. It didn’t really matter in the end though, because I didn’t know what most of the food names represent so I needed Mrs. Lemon to explain to me anyway.

After we both picked something, we had a bit more time to talk. There was one question I meant to ask sooner but I couldn’t really find the right moment until now:

“Mistress, about your symphony today…” I started.

”Yes Anon?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it, the first act,.. was that really you? I mean: did it really reflect your life back then?”

”Yes.” She smiled with slight amusement. “...Hard to believe?”

“A little bit.” I admitted.

”Yet it’s true. I used to be quite posh.” A chuckle escaped her lips “I don’t think you’d like me back then. Trust me, I’d be the first to complain about being in the same room with you… Actually, I remember that I didn't make exactly a good first impression either. Now I wish I could take those words back.” She looked away with visible shame.

“I understand it was said under heavy emotions. Please, don’t be so hard on yourself. I am way past it.”

”I appreciate you saying that ...But Papyrus doesn’t have it easy with me either, I just wish that he-”

However, my mistress didn’t finish her sentence because her husband, who she just mentioned, literally entered the restaurant at the very same moment. ...With a mare by his side.

”What the-... quickly hide under the table!” Mrs. Lemon suddenly pushed my head down “What is he doing here with Ink Blossom..?”

They didn’t notice us and sat down to one of the tables while we kept watching them from where we were hidden:

”...I don’t understand, he said he’ll be busy the whole Saturday. So much that he couldn’t come to the concert,.. why is he here?” Miss Lemon whispered without taking her eyes off them.

“I don’t know but surely there’s some good explanation…” I whispered back. “You said you know the mare, mistress?”

”She’s one of his co-workers that lives here in Greenwood… maybe there just wasn’t as much work as he expected and he arrived sooner. And since they usually ride the same train, he went on a dinner with Ink. ...As friends, just like us. ...A-after the dinner, he’ll surely come home…” her heart was beating so heavy that even I could hear it.

It was as if I could literally feel the growing stress inside of the mare as she had to watch her husband slowly slide closer to the mare with a black mane. As he wrapped his hoof around her, whispering something into her ear. And then, as they kissed and giggled together like lovers.

”This isn’t true…” Mrs. Lemon whimpered “Papyrus wouldn’t-... he k-knows that I…”

Yet she couldn’t finish what she wanted to say. Instead, she wailed a long, painful sound as if something inside of her was dying...

”He- he wouldn’t-…” she then sobbed, still trying to finish her sentence, even though it was already clear what was happening there.

...

But as my mistress had to watch her husband kiss the mare again, all of that sadness and desperation turned into something else in a mere blink of an eye.

About the same time, the unicorn waiter came, about to serve us the food we ordered:

”Miss, here’s your-” he started, yet he didn’t get to finish.

”You fucking asshole!!!!!!!” Miss Lemon flipped the table we were hiding under, yelling on top of her lungs at Mr. Scribble over the whole restaurant.

If the waiter arrived five seconds earlier, both of the meals would be laying on the floor. it didn’t mean they were saved though… My furious mistress grabbed her ‘Green beans in soy sauce with brown sugar’, as well as her delicious looking ‘duchess potatoes’ as a side dish and threw them at her husband with deadly sharp aim and all of her strength.

The plate broke over his head and covered both him and the mare next to him with surely scrumptious food that no one else got to taste that night.

”So you have enough time to slut around with your co-workers??!.. Don’t you even have the balls to tell your idiotic, crippled, wife that you don’t give a shit anymore about her??” she kept screaming like a mad mare “FUCK YOU PAPYRUS!!!!”

Mr. Scribble was completely speechless at that moment, not being able to produce a single sound besides staring at her as if he had just seen a ghost. - It partly could have been because the plate he got hit with was quite heavy too. The whole restaurant went silent with him, leaving the furious mare breathing heavily in the center of all attention.

...When my mistress realized that literally all eyes were glued onto her, she seemed to calm down a bit, just enough to stop breaking stuff. I was still hiding behind the flipped table by that time, frozen about what just happened and what keeps happening.

The waiter laid the second meal that was meant for me into my hands and walked away in fear of getting slapped just for good measure. But by that time, Miss Lemon was mostly back to her senses, yet still extremely upset.

She turned at me, awkwardly holding the plate in front of myself, and I while I could swear she considered throwing that one as well, instead she reached into my bag to pull out the sack of bits she earned earlier, turn the table back around and slam one hoof full of the coins on it:

”This is for the food.” she stated.

Then added two hooves full of bits:

”And this is for the expenses. -Let’s go Anon.” my mistress grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the restaurant. On the way out, I couldn’t help but to stare at the still speechless Mr. Scribble, sitting in his seat near the door.

Only outside did I realise I was still holding the plate of ‘Marinated tofu strips with seaweed and spring salad’ in my other hand. I quickly laid it down on the restaurant windowsill because I saw Miss Lemon breaking down on the ground in tears. ...Only with her front part though, because her rear part was still attached to the wheels and keeping her haunches up in the air.

...

“Mistress..?” I very gently laid my hand on her back “Please…”

Yet she just kept crying, barely noticing me...

I never really dared to touch her unless she specifically told me to but now I kneeled in front of her and cautiously raised her up, so that she wouldn’t be in such a compromising position.

Yet she still refused to look at me, shielding her closed eyes:

”Leave me be Anon…” she whimpered “I’m such a pathetic, naive old horse.”

“Let’s go home…” I picked her whole body up, unstrapping her from the wheels and throwing the whole thing on my back.

...

Holding the white mare, with stumps in place of rear legs, in my hands, I walked back towards the train station. She was whimpering the whole way, barely noticing what was going on, just pressing herself onto my shirt.

Eventually, she cried herself to sleep.

***

By the time we arrived at the station, she was still out cold, as if she was in a coma. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long because our means of getting home was already there, about to depart.

”What did you do to her, human?!” The train driver stopped me when I tried to enter.

When I glanced at him, he must have partly understood, enough to know it wasn’t my fault:

“Please, I just want to take my mistress home…” I somewhat whined.

And the stallion didn’t say anything, merely stepped out of my way. Yet he kept watching me throughout the whole ride.

I didn’t care.

I just closed my eyes, hoping we’d be there soon.

At our stop, I walked out of the train with Miss Lemon in my arms again. From there it wasn’t that far to ‘our’ home.

I think that Miss Lemon woke up somewhere on the way but she didn’t really say or do anything to let me know. I carried on, pretending to think that she was still asleep.

Back home, I laid her into her bed, had a quick shower to wash away the sweat and emotional dirt, and laid myself on my mattress in front of her door, hoping that the morning would be wiser than evening.

Boy, was I wrong.

***